Chapter Text
Elmo examines his closet for the fourth time this morning and is unsurprised to find that he still has nothing worth wearing. The day ahead requires a level of sophistication that his more casual sense of style heavily lacks, and the closest thing to an interview outfit he can muster is a deep orange blouse that exposes the soft red fur on his chest and a white pencil skirt with a slit that would make any office administrator blush. He pairs this with white heels and a small golden heart locket that rests just above his sternum.
Out the apartment door before he can think about changing, Elmo tries to walk with confidence, something he immediately regrets as his cheap heels struggle to support his moving weight. He makes it to the elevator without spilling over, and endeavors to be more careful as he weaves through the streets towards Hue Cup, the infamously expensive coffee house chain that has recently dominated Chicago’s busiest streets and business centers. He feels his phone buzz from his purse for a few moments as he walks before reluctantly answering the call. He doesn’t know why she bothers to call, the way she yells Elmo could probably hear her from across town if he tried.
“Are you ready Elmy?” She’s uncharacteristically quiet today, which is never a good sign. Elmo distractedly wonders who got on her nerves this early. “Because if you don’t get this job we’re both going to have to answer to some very mean muppets.” Elmo shivers to think who Miss Piggy would consider mean after all the abuse he’s suffered under her shrill iron fist.
“Everything is under control,” Elmo says, forcing some steel into his voice, “the target will not escape.”
Miss Piggy makes a sound that Elmo can only describe as a ‘harumph’, her voice deepening in its intensity, “It’s your head.”
She hangs up before he can reassure her of his competence, leaving him to rub nervously at the back of his neck as the sound of the bell above the coffee shop door welcomes him in. Despite being overpriced, H.C. is nothing if not popular, and Elmo is pleasantly surprised to see that there is little line ahead of him. He takes his place at the edge of the counter and mentally runs through his belongings. One resume and cover letter, two cups of coffee (pending), a small antique pistol (loaded, safety perpetually on), and an old tube of lipgloss, which Elmo applies self-consciously as he leans to see his reflection in his aging iPhone 7. There’s something stuck to one of the hairs on his head, and he leans in even further to examine, causing his heels to rock forward, the momentum pitching him onto the cold tile floor.
He doesn’t hit the ground though, instead placing his hands on the ground to push himself up. He also feels someone tugging him from behind, aiding his ascent, and the soft flutter of small wings reaches his ears. He turns around to face his savior, looking at the floor somewhat bashfully now that they are face to face.
“Thank you” Elmo offers, unsure what else to say. The person in front of him is not a muppet, although he has some of their features. His fur is light blue and purple and sticks out at odd angles, he’s small and round, with wide expressive eyes and a mouth that seems permanently agape. His small pink wings flutter erratically, and he blows a raspberry, which Elmo mentally translates to “no problem”. He turns around to find the line in front of him has dissipated, but there is no one behind the counter to take his order. He hears a loud “Ah!” from behind him, as a blue blur shoots into place behind the register. Elmo offers the puffball a bewildered smile as he prepares to place his order, noting his nametag, 'Bibble'. "Two coffees please, black." Bibble nods, muttering something incomprehensible as he begins to erratically buzz about in a way that makes Elmo's head spin. It's mesmerizing in its frenzied nature, and Elmo passively wonders how much coffee the barista has consumed himself. It's moments before the coffees are in front of him, and Bibble's wide eyes are looking back at him.
"Barboo bleeba doof?" Bibble questions, or at least Elmo assumes it's a question from his tone. He smiles awkwardly, taking the coffee as he tries to catch his meaning. Bibble sighs, tutting to himself before he clears his throat and speaks again, his voice shockingly low and deep: "Someone meeting you?". Elmo blinks for a moment, nearly losing his grip on his coffee before he smiles again,
"Ah no, other way around." Bibble makes another high-pitched "ah", this time in understanding, his voice once again becoming shrill and high. He then runs a small hand through the purple mullet of hair on his head, "well, byede byde," he pauses as if waiting for a name. Elmo stutters out a reply.
"My name's Elmo."
"Ah! Byde byde Elmo-pooh!" Bibble smiles widely as he speaks, offering a small wave before he flits off again through the staff door and out of Elmo's line of sight. Elmo's mouth clamps down on a half-uttered reply, instead returning to the sidewalk and the task ahead of him.